


No One's Here To Sleep

by Baebadook



Series: Team Depressed Party [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, References to Depression, Rimming, There's a fourth character in this fic and it's name is CRIPPLING LONELINESS, Two grown ass men fucking instead of just using Words and Expressing Feelings™, is it hate sex anymore? who can say :3, references to death, sometimes it do be lonely tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25909120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baebadook/pseuds/Baebadook
Summary: What goes on behind these doorsI'll keep mine and you'll keep yoursWe all have our secretsWe all have our secretsLonely nights at the Sleeping Owl inn.
Relationships: Lucian D'lacriox/Jonas Nel Vasstris, Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s)
Series: Team Depressed Party [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537081
Kudos: 2





	No One's Here To Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Another self indulgent fic about me and a friend's dnd OCs you just simply Love to see it
> 
> Title (as well as the lyrics in the summary) comes for a song by the same name by Naught Boy and Bastille.

“Jojo, do me a solid and pay for my inn room, yeah?” Lucian says this while he’s finishing up the last of the snack he’s made himself, (and after finally passing over some  _ bread _ to share with him), also indulging in the wine that he’s taken from Jonas’ hands. “You know I’m good for it.”

Jonas almost wants to comment on how his  _ mother _ is good for it, but he holds it back. The entire day has been tumultuous from start to finish , and it all feels a little too rocky and raw for witty remarks right now. It feels too mean spirited from how Jonas usually carries himself.

Jonas is still holding on to the Nimblewright map and Blackstaff’s sending stone that Lucian had tossed down, and he hasn’t exactly asked for them back yet, either.

As frustrating as the noble can be sometimes, Jonas can recognize that he isn’t exactly a saint himself. Today has also exemplified and exacerbated just how much he can panic and make idiotic decisions when facing down the guards. Or pretty much any stressful situation, for that matter, and it’s definitely managed to puncture his pride. How much he’s had to begin with is a little bit debatable at this point.

The situation might’ve been different on a few different occasions if he had just kept his mouth shut in the first place, and if anything he’s made the target on their backs even bigger, Blue Jonas most of all. And to top it all off Icarion is in a holding cell somewhere because he went looking for them. Jonas supposes it’s a hail Mary that he’s safe from the Zhentarim for right now,  _ maybe _ , by being surrounded by guards.

All and all the day has been pretty shitty on all fronts, but not the worst it could have been. By some fucking greater power above.

Blue Jonas has come in from his talks with the mysterious stranger on the roof and he throws a wonderfully confused look their way when he realizes that they’re both still just sitting on the floor of the Sleeping Owl’s kitchen.

“What are you doing on the floor?”

“Well, I mean, look at him. Jojo is drunk.” Lucian supplies, gesturing at him with a piece of cheese in his hand.

“I am  _ fine _ .” Red Jonas says, without even slurring a little bit. Nope, not at all. Definitely one hundred percent firing on all cylinders. If anyone’s mastered the art of going through all five stages of grief with facial expressions alone, it’s Blue Jonas.

In all actuality Jonas can’t quite remember when he was last this loose and out of sorts. He’s almost caught somewhere between inebriated and already hungover. Elves are weird like that.

“Hey Jonas, be a dear and get our rooms, okay? Jojo is paying for it.” Lucian gets a withering look from the Water Genasi, a look that he must be well acquainted with by this point, but he takes the wallet handed to him. “Also, how did the talk go, hmm?”

Blue Jonas makes an abortive noise in the back of his throat before he’s already walking out into the common room, not before his cheeks bloom a brilliant shade of purple when he manages to swing around.

Lucian shakes his head after him and wryly mumbles out, “Ah, young love.”

Jonas doesn’t really know if  _ that’s _ what he’d call it, and he doesn’t exactly trust the figure outside, (who for all intents and purposes is probably still out there too) either, but. It’s a lot. There’s a lot of things that Jonas doesn’t know or understand, and things that Blue Jonas hasn’t told them, and it’s a weird situation to be in.

And it doesn’t necessarily mean that he  _ has _ to be in the know, either. These are private matters, and at this point he thinks all of them has at least a thing or two they haven’t divulged with the rest of the group about themselves, whether purposeful or not. Red Jonas himself may consider them friends whether the other Jonas does or not, but they’ve effectively known each other for less than two weeks. It feels bad, almost creepy to pry into the otherwise private life of a- friend? Acquaintance? 

Then again, if it’s something potentially dangerous…

It’s bad, it’s all bad and it’s been making laps in his brain for days now and he doesn’t know how to make heads or tails of it all.

He startles, almost quite suddenly, when Lucian grumbles and climbs into a standing position, using one hand to brush off any imaginary dirt that might be clinging to his clothes.

“I can almost hear you thinking from here and it’s making me tired.”

Red Jonas blinks once, and then twice. He thinks about making a rebuttal, mouth already opening, but then Blue Jonas is hustling back into the kitchen and placing two room keys down on the kitchen counter.

“I’m making food.”

\---

Blue Jonas makes food, and it’s pretty good on a practically empty stomach. Lucian (kind’ve, sort’ve) cleans up the mess he’s made on the kitchen floor. Red Jonas ends up inquiring with Amiya about using their baths in the inn, and meanwhile Lucian continues to lurk in the kitchen where he doesn’t have to directly interact with Amiya. It’s almost funny; the haughty noble scolded and embittered by an innkeeper.

In all fairness though they could probably kick both of their asses without breaking so much of a sweat, so. It’s probably for the best if he’s honest.

Jonas sits in the bathtub for a while. After everything that’s transpired he feels a weariness creeping down to his very bones. It feels good to just slow down for a moment even amidst the absolute chaos that is their lives lately.

They have a friend to bail out of jail, and Jonas had already used up his ability to cast Sending, so they’ll have to wait until tomorrow to hopefully glean more information. They have clothes to pick up for a fancy dinner party. They still don’t actually know if it’s supposed to be fancy and if formal attire is a requirement, nor if there will be more people in attendance.

After getting grilled by three separate people in the span of one single day, and he’ll be hard pressed to deal with anymore poking and prodding. And on top of that, he may need to cast Remove Curse on a  _ Lord _ of  _ Waterdeep _ at some point. There’s a rather persistent pounding to his head after all the thinking, and he groans and lets himself sink further into the warm fragranced water.

Eventually time passes and the water starts to cool around him, and it’s not worth the effort or the strain to try and keep it hot any longer. Though, he does have to do something about his clothes before it becomes a moot point of bathing in the first place. Thankfully it only takes some minimal spell casting and a little wave of his hand before they’re back, practically good as new.

It’ll have to do, at least until all their business is done and they get their outfits. He had packed some other clothes, but they’re all back at Trollskull, and they hadn’t exactly thought that they’d be sleeping here in an inn tonight.

And speaking of, when he finally pokes his head out into the hallway it appears that the other two had finished up with their baths and have already headed to bed, Jonas with Amiya and Lucian in his own room respectively.

The realization that he’s alone and sort of out in the open makes his skin feel itchy, and the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end. He shuffles across the hall and into his own room, paranoid and feeling a little ridiculous. Only feels minutely better when the door is closed and locked behind him and he puffs out an exhale. He hasn’t been this jittery and on edge since his childhood, when he believed in monsters under the bed that were coming to get him.

Turns out there are worse things up top to be worrying about. And then he’s stood there wondering about the validity of a door lock and if casting Alarm would be too far. Ultimately he decides against it for now; the last thing he needs is to accidentally terrify someone on the way to the washroom. There’s a window on the opposite side of the room and he crosses the floor in a few steps so he can whisk the curtains closed.

The glimpse he catches of Waterdeep as he does so is a dreary dark sight; and not for the first time since coming here he misses home. Ozryn has a lot more rolling hills and forests surrounding the town. Everything there almost feels bright and lively in comparison, though he’s not sure if he’s just projecting.

What’s definitely  _ not _ a projection though is the sheer difference in rules and regulations. Waterdeep almost feels militant in it’s laws in a way that’s jarring when compared to back home. He’d even heard his mother mention it after she visited once or twice, but he never got to take a look at the Code Legal until he actually came around.

Ozryn has laws that certainly isn’t to be disputed. But it’s also roughly half the size of Waterdeep and things like impersonating Lords doesn’t tend to happen back home. Other than a few wild storms and other natural occurrences before and after he was born, the most exciting thing that Jonas was around to witness was that a few trickster kids let the dairy cows out of Sarielle Farms.

They were reprimanded and had to apologize, along with helping to herd them back home, but they certainly didn’t get flogged publicly or fined hundreds and hundreds of gold.

Frankly it’s a miracle they’ve only had a couple of run-ins with the city guard, and that they’re not currently being hung by their thumbs off in some dingy dungeon somewhere. But also, it’s not quite off the table yet wildly enough.

He turns away from the curtains with a slight chill down his spine and goes about taking off his shoes and tugging the blankets down the bed. They feel soft and comfortable to the touch; Jonas can tell that Amiya puts a lot of work into their inn.

He settles down underneath the covers and starts his usual preparations to trance. He’s found that clearing his thoughts, letting his breathing slow and even out and things like that helps. It’s not unlike how other humanoid folks try to fall asleep.

Though lately he hasn’t been all too keen to lay down at the end of the day and try to trance. It’s been a stressful time and ever since coming here his dreams have been filled with the image of sewers. A too-familiar broken and battered body. Long winding halls that don’t make logical sense. Unnamed figures passing through crowds and dark cloaks on rooftops.

And once he’s pulled himself out of it he can’t help but feel even more paranoid and uneasy. He’s not a stranger to nightmares, or whatever the equivalent that elves get when it comes to dreaming, but these are dark and unsettling. It makes him think back to when Lael used to get bad dreams and he’d end up crying in the middle of the night. And if Jonas was the one to get to him first to help, he’d always try to comfort him. They’d talk it out, or he’d fetch him some water and give him hugs. Maybe read to him for a while to take his mind off of it before tucking him back into bed.

The thoughts make his chest ache, the feeling creeping up to his throat. He misses family and he misses home. It’s times like these, late at night when the loneliness starts to set in. And what’s worse is that even if he still could send a message or two to someone tonight, he’s too much of a coward to actually go through with it. It was hard enough to write a letter explaining what had happened and getting heartbreaking correspondence back. Hearing his parent’s voices right now, or even his siblings, would truly break him.

He’ll also, at some point, have to make his way back to the temple and ensure that Iliyana will be taken back home. He’d rather sooner do it then later, but tomorrow they might not have the time with all the going ons. He’s also weary about trying to navigate there himself.

In a true moment of weakness he aches for Ronin. The word limitation for Sending also poses a problem. There’s not enough words in Common or Elvish words in any amount of dictionaries he wishes he could say right now. There are pains in his heart that still have not healed over even with time and distance, and he’s sure he’d break down and waste three of those words saying the very phrase that had distanced Ronin to begin with.

He continues to stare up at the ceiling and allows himself a few more moments to wallow in self pity. He can hear the sounds of scuffling out in the hall, and a door open and close to the right of him. From the sound of how close it is it could very well be Lucian still up and about. It’s almost comforting to know that at least someone else is up right now. Jonas wonders how Blue Jonas is holding up right now. If he has any particular trouble sleeping like the rest of them, or if the sheer stress of the day and the Wildshaping has sent him right off to sleep.

Gods, and they do have that dinner tomorrow. If Jonas has to talk his way through something again he’s going to lose his collective mind.

Though, if he’s already lost it is debatable, really, because he’s pulling himself out of bed in the middle of the night and pattering over to unlock his door. The stillness of his room makes him want to squirm and he can’t seem to switch off his brain. Taking a glance outside and into the hall and no one is out and about, though that’s to be expected at this time of night. The place is quiet and the candles in scones littered around the establishment are burning low or blown out. He almost wishes that he could take a walk outside and get some fresh air to try and clear his head, but today has proven that they all need to be extra cautious. He thinks about cloaked figures in dark corners again and bites at his lip.

Turns his head to look back into his room. He’s just thinking about how idiotic he’s being when he catches a glance of the map and the Sending stone sat on the dresser. He dropped them there before he took his shower. After another slight pause he walks over to gather them up and heads out.

The floor of the hallway is cold underneath his feet. Pristine polished wooden floorboards that only creak a little bit when he steps at certain spots. The trip to Lucian’s room is extremely short considering it’s right next to his, and he raps his knuckles softly against the wood of the door. Loud enough to be heard, but also trying not to wake any other patrons in the inn.

There’s a scuffling sound from inside before he gets an answer.

“ _ What? _ ”

Jonas shifts from one foot to the other, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly even if Lucian can’t see him.

“It’s me.” Another beat of silence, then-

“ _ I don’t know any “me”s, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.” _

Now  _ that _ earns him an eye roll.

“Lucian…”

“ _ Fine, fine, gods above.” _

More noises and scuffling. At one point he thinks that Lucian manages to stub his toe or bang his knee into something on the way to the door, judging solely from the string of muffled curses he hears. The door opens up and Lucian looks just as disgruntled as he expected him to, and then he’s cocking a hip and squinting over at the Wizard.

“What do you want? I’m trying to sleep. You know, like you should be.” He’s still squinting at Jonas, that sharp judging gaze of his sweeping over him. Jonas doesn’t quite know what he’s looking for or if he ends up finding it.

“Sorry, thought I heard you up and about.” He could dispute that he  _ did _ hear Lucian, leaving his room and heading distinctly away from the public latrines, but he didn’t come here to grill him.

Lucian’s eyes eventually drop to the things he’s got clutched in his left hand, and some of that pompous swagger he always seems to carry almost seems to bleed right out of him. He sags slightly against the door.

“Look. I meant what I said out there, okay?”

He sounds a little tired, deadpan and weary in a way that Jonas never hears often. So much of Lucian seems over the top in a calculated, preformative kind of way, so it’s always a little jarring when he sees that stripped away. Jonas nods.

“I understand, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” He takes a glance past Lucian into his room. Just as bright and inviting, and seemingly just as lonely and quiet too.

It’s Lucian’s turn to shift in place, to pause and look at Jonas, like he’s thinking. And then he’s heaving the world’s largest and most melodramatic sigh before he’s stepping back away from the door.

“Fine, close the door behind you since you’re so determined to ruin my beauty sleep.”

Jonas hums rather convincingly and leans back against the door so it clicks closed. Lucian's room looks fairly untouched like Jonas' is, save for the rumpled blankets on the bed and his shoes dropped on the floor.

And when Lucian flops back down to sit at the head of the bed, rather undignified as a noble but to be expected, he hears the distinct clink and clatter of glass bottles bumping together. He uncovers three bottles of alcohol from the heap of blankets, and either Lucian's personal flask must've finally ran dry or he just wants to go for something  _ fun  _ and  _ different  _ tonight. He has a pretty large sneaking suspicion as to where he acquired these bottles from, but if not getting another lecture or not getting his ass beat means staying out of it, then he sees nothing and knows nothing too.

Still, it's been a while since Lucian's been knocked out drunk. He doesn't look or act it right now, but that might be what he's going for. And other than the general assholeishness that comes with it and the obvious over laying health risks, it wouldn't be too much of an issue, but.

"We have a dinner party tomorrow." He crosses the room and situates himself on the edge of the bed when Lucian doesn't seem to be protesting. And he feels the need to say it, as if it would actually stop or sway him in any way from drinking too heavily tonight.

Almost to echo this point, Lucian makes a scoffing noise and waves a loose hand at him.

"Relax, gods. If I'm not already up by then you can wake me up."

Jonas suddenly sees an icy cold hand to the neck in his future.

"I'll hold you to that."

"And anyways,  _ you  _ were drinking earlier, do." To emphasize this Lucian reaches over to poke him with a thin boney finger. Jonas avoids rubbing his assaulted arm to hide the fact that it actually managed to hurt, and shrugs.

"I stopped,  _ so _ ." The bath had helped, and he's still not quite one hundred percent sober but he's not sloshed either. Not as bad as he was earlier.

And really the argument could be made that he didn't stop so much as Lucian  _ made  _ him stop. Amidst stealing his drink and trying to force feed him bread. Lucian clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

"Yes, but I am a  _ seasoned _ drunk; you're just a rookie." He gesticulating with one of the bottles, fingers wrapped around the neck and nearly sloshing the contents out the top. As it passes closer Jonas plucks it out of his hand and drinks some down.

It burns when he swallows just as expected, and the pure alcoholic taste rather leaves something to be desired. He'd much rather prefer wine when it's easier to get down. Well, your typical bottles of wine. Whatever he was drinking before was clearly an outlier.

He's not exactly wrong though. Jonas is much more of a social drinker instead of finding it a means to an end in most cases.

"Yeah, I'm not really sure that's something to be proud of."

"That's because you're no fun." Jonas stutters, eyes narrowing as Lucian merely smiles cheekily over at him. Jet black clinging to his teeth just like usual, and sometimes Jonas forgets that he knows what it tastes like.

"I can be fun. And spontaneous." As they've talked he's seemed to gravitate more toward the center of the bed. It's a double and there's plenty of room to spare and yet one of his knees come to rest against Lucian's.

Lucian just pretends to shrug like his hands are tied on the matter, that smug smile on his face.

"That remains to be seen Jojo. Or should I say Stick in the Mud."

Jonas huffs and takes the bottle back, resisting the urge to do something juvenile like sticking his tongue out at him. Lucian leans back on his hands, eyebrow quirked as he watches him take another drink. Jonas thinks he's probably playing right into whatever outcome that Lucian wants. It's easy to get a rise out of him he will admit, he's just not sure to what end. Maybe he's looking to get hit, or it's some form of flirtation for him. Or both. Lucian is the type of person that'll always keep you guessing.

It is nice though; talking. A lot better than sitting in his room all by himself left to his own thoughts. And maybe he really just is bugging Lucian, preventing him from getting blasted out of his gourd and regretting it in the morning. But, he doesn't know, Lucian has always struck him as someone else whose lonely, too.

And maybe it's dumb, but maybe they can be that together.

Lucian takes back the bottle and it gets sat on the nightstand. The other two follow. There's moonlight peeking in from underneath the curtains and spilling over the rug on the floor. It's a quiet night outside and that's reflected between the two of them for a while.

Jonas typically likes to think that he has good impulse control. When it comes to the learning and casting of spells. When it comes to helping with his mother's business. Maybe less so when it comes to sweets, but that's besides the point.

The point being that he doesn't know if that can be said regarding him and people. Technically speaking he's only had one steady relationship amidst several flings and flames that have led nowhere, either by choice or not.

Lucian is not a steady relationship, and that's not lost on him either. And he doesn't want it to be. He doesn't have any room left in his heart to try and make that a reality even if he  _ wanted  _ to. Nothing Lucian does exactly screams "commitment". He doesn't know if he'd classify him as a flame either.

But he's here, reclined in bed like it's nothing, looking right through him. And Jonas can feel that deep ache creeping back into his chest and trying to squeeze at his heart. It only seems logical to try and combat that by closing the tantalizing distance between them, breath stuttering in his chest.

He's not sure if any of the desperation he's feeling comes through in the kiss but there's no going back now. One of his hands reaches up and his fingers curl into the soft fabric at the front of Lucian's shirt, and the familiar taste from that time in the alley is back on his tongue. The kiss is altogether less rough than last time, but there's a sharp nip to his lip as they part.

Lucian looks unsurprised by this turn of events and he sits up more. There's black clinging to his lips and Jonas is pretty sure if he looked in a mirror right now his would be the same.

"That where this is going, huh?" Lucian doesn't sound adverse to it, but it still gives Jonas pause. Ice lapping at his spine like maybe he's made a mistake and read the situation wrong. That maybe the alley was a one time thing.

"I thought that that was the case," a pause he sounds unsure to his own ears, "Was I wrong? I can, I'll just-" He's in the process of untangling his fingers and separating when Lucian rolls his eyes and starts dragging him back in.

Now this, this kiss is rough and heady with intent.

Jonas' hands find purchase at his hips, tongues sliding past lips. You could almost mistake it as tender if you didn't know any better. Thankfully at least this time they're in private and Jonas won't be constantly glancing back behind his shoulder every few minutes.

He's glad that Lucian had the thought to move the bottles away from the bed, because as they move and shift closer he's sure they would've gotten knocked to the ground with an ungodly noise, I'd they didn't break on top of that.

Jonas is minutely embarrassed by just how breathless he gets once they finally pull away from each other. Their clothes are disheveled and wrinkled, and Lucian's lips are kiss swollen. Puffs of air are mingling between them and fanning over their mouths. It's fucking fascinating to almost see Lucian's pupils start to dilate while they're kissing and starting to grind together. He's sure his own are doing the exact same, and he can feel how warm his cheeks and neck are getting from the stimulation.

Somewhere between one rough kiss and another they’ve shifted to laying down. This is nice too, he can’t lie. He’s on top of Lucian and they’re moving on to more sexual waters but physical contact is nice. He’s always loved hugs and snuggles, little points of contact that makes him feel good. He comes from a very touchy-feely family so it’s almost sad to be around friends who don’t seem keen on it much for one reason or another. It’s understandable, but a little sad.

Jonas tilts his head to look down Lucian’s body, his hands moving back to his hips to grip him there. He lets his fingers dig in some, because if he recalls correctly Lucian seemed to like that kind’ve thing. Grinds his hips down against him and feels the shudder that goes through his body. That’s good too. Jonas can feel his cock twitch in his pants, already hard and aching. And when he keeps rocking down he can feel Lucian’s, the Warlock hissing and clutching at his back.

He skirts the edge of Lucian’s shirt, thumbs coming to rest against warm skin.

“You wanna?” Their lips drag together as he speaks, leaning back just enough to speak.

Before he can slide his hands up any further there’s suddenly fingers curling around one of his wrists, and Lucian looks straight faced and serious when Jonas tilts his head back to peer up at him.

“Shirt stays on.” His tone holds no room for arguments. Jonas knows better than to ask questions. They’ve all got their issues and insecurities and he’s not about to disparage or mock him for it.

He nods. “I can work with that.”

Lucian nods back after a pause, and once he’s let go Jonas takes his hands away. He pushes up off him and sits on his haunches. He takes a moment to admire the view of Lucian debauched underneath him. Legs spread, cheeks red and eyes dark black.

“Okay, now hurry up already.” Yep, there it is. Just as familiar as the last time around. Joans lets it slide this time around. He rolls his eyes, not much heat in it, and jerks his chin to the side in a gesture.

“Hands and knees, then.”

Lucian quirks a brow up again, a smile that’s downright wolfish spreading across his face.

“Ah, bossy Jojo is back.” He makes a big deal about taking his time in turning over and presenting his ass to him, “I think I like this side of you.” The comment doesn’t surprise him in the slightest.

Jonas reaches out to plant his hands on the insides of Lucian’s thighs so he can spread them further apart. And when he complies he moves to get down to brass tax and starts tugging his pants and underwear down. Lets them get to about his knees and then leaves them on the way they are.

Lucian’s cock is hanging hard between his legs, red at the head with drops of pre-come collecting at the tip. His own gives another twitch, still pressed against the fabric of his pants. He could deal with that, at least tug his own down to relieve pressure, but he’s rather focused on the sight in front of him first.

He palms both ass cheeks, reveling in the quiet shudder he gets as a result, and then spreads them. If he had known that this would become a recurring thing between them he would’ve stopped somewhere to purchase a vial of oil or something. As it is he at least has some alternative methods, so that’ll have to do.

“What’s taking you so lo-  _ hah! _ ” Whatever Lucian was about to say falls to the wayside, sentence choking off into nothing as Jonas ducks his head in and licks a stripe across his hole. The reaction is instantaneous and gratifying.

“Impatient.” Jonas enunciated the syllables just to be a dick, and then doesn’t give him the opportunity to sass back. Lucian’s hands curl and bunch up the sheets under him, his asshole clenching down on nothing.

“You were saying?”   


“Ah, prick."

Jonas grins, fleeting and wicked, and then he’s back to the task at hand. He keeps Lucian’s cheeks spread and his thumbs rest at either side of his hole, tugging him open there too. It makes it so easy for him to slide his tongue right in. Breeches past that ring of muscle and makes him choke out a moan. Lucian’s legs tremble slightly as he continues to slide and curl his tongue.

“ _ Fuck me _ .”

Jonas huffs out a laugh, and if his tongue wasn’t currently occupied he’d tell Lucian that they’re getting there all in due time.

It isn’t too long before Lucian starts to pant and rock his hips back into Jonas’ mouth. He wonders if he could actually get him off like this. The way he flattens his tongue and slides it across him, agonizingly slow and prolonged on purpose. Wonders if he could come with just his tongue up in him or if it wouldn’t be enough to cross that threshold. If it’d just leave him aching and  _ needing _ . If he had a little more patience tonight then maybe he’d explore this self inquiry.

Instead he gives his tongue a little break. He hasn’t touched Lucian’s cock yet, either, and he must be aching by now. Lucian makes a little noise as he stops. Jonas hums softly. Shifts so one of his hands is back at his hip, dark fingers pushing into porcelain skin. His other hand stays, and he sinks a thick finger into his ass all the way down to the knuckle in one move.

Lucian’s already clamping down on it before he’s even started moving. Little droplets of black ichor have started to hit the pillow with the way he’s been keeping his mouth open to breathe and pant. Jonas kind’ve wished that his hair wasn’t blocking his view. Lucian’s almost drooling, gagging for his cock. At the very least he’s surprised that he’s managed to render him speechless, at least for a small while. They both know that’s a feat that won’t last very long.

He lets his teeth rake lightly over one of his cheeks, and he pulls back his finger before sliding it right back in. The most resistance comes from Lucian himself, but soon he’s got a steady rhythm to prep and open him up. When he feels ready enough for it he nudges his pointer finger against his hole before fucking it up in beside his middle.

Warm heat is dancing along his spine, zeroing in on the pressure between his hips and straight to his dick. The way that Lucian is panting and groaning, and fucking back onto his fingers is really doing it for him. Especially when one of his fingers brushes against his prostate and Lucian lets out a rather colorful string of curses.

“Fucking Hells, get on with it.” Lucian practically grinds the command out, but it doesn’t hold much weight when it’s tinged with how whiny and needy he is. It makes his lips curl into a grin.

“You sure? I haven’t even finished up yet.” He fucks the two fingers back in, curling them up against his prostate some more. Lucian moans out, and Jonas watches his arms shake momentarily like they want to buckle.

“Yes!” It’s more of a hissing sound than a word, really, and Jonas hums again. After a while more of teasing he finally starts to retract his fingers slowly. Lucian shudders under him again.

His ass has a few trails of red standing out stark against pale skin where his teeth were. His hips are the same story, and Jonas wonders if he bruises easily. He supposes he’ll have to find that out. Jonas lets his own pants and underwear slip down his thighs. It’s an instant relief to his cock, rock hard and thrumming. He scoots closer to Lucian and takes himself in hand. While he thinks that Lucian might like some roughness he’s still worried about discomfort.

Prestidigitation is a wonderful spell to have in any Wizard’s arsenal. It has a multitude of uses to it, and though he’s sure that creating sticky mess-like substance for  _ this _ exact situation isn’t how it was intended or expected, it still gets the job done. It’s a definite step up from spitting to your hand in a dark alley and calling it good.

He slicks himself up with it, makes sure to slide a finger with some excess over Lucian’s hole just for good measure. And it’s pretty funny to hear him yelp and jerk at the unexpected touch.

“Tease.” Lucian grumbles out.

“Takes one to know one.” Admittedly a weak comeback in all honesty, but this is pretty much what their relationship comes down to: teasing, petty jabs, dry remarks. If Jonas didn’t know him like he does, and vice versa, they’d probably hate each other.

Jonas plants one of his hands between Lucian’s shoulder blades and  _ pushes _ . He goes down fairly easy with a choked moan, and now he’s even more presented for him than before with his face shoved down against the pillow. He moans once more, muffled by fabric, and Jonas keeps him there. The other hand is helping guide his cock into his ass.

Jonas groans once the head of his cock is pressed in, Lucian creating a similar sound right back. His body is a line of heat inside and out, and that hot pressure pushing into him on all sides makes his toes want to curl.

He rocks his hips forward slowly, little by little, fucking up into Lucian deeper every time until his pelvis is flush against his ass. He can feel the heat radiating off of his own face. And he’s panting too, by now, hot puffs of air scattering across Lucian’s clothed back as he leans over him. He shifts on his knees a bit, just a little, just enough to have the better leverage to fuck him.

And Lucian’s cock is still hard, completely neglected and red. He decides to have some mercy on him in that moment, stretching to lean further down, making Lucian hiss and moan with the shift change. He wraps his fingers around his cock and makes sure to give him some nice languid strokes. His thumb skirts over his cockhead, serving mostly to tease and make him whine. His knees shake, almost squirming under his touch.

Lucian turns his head to the side so he can catch his breath, black smeared from his mouth and across the side of his cheek, now. Jonas has to wonder how thick these walls are. Waking up the entire inn with incessant banging is only slightly less moretifying than the thought of getting caught the first time they did this together. As a precautionary measure he lifts his finger to his lips, spurred into sending him a cheeky wink with it.

Lucian groans, but it’s decidedly meant to be taken in the not-sexy way.

“You are insufferable sometimes.”

And, well,  _ sometimes _ is a pretty low bar to set. But that means that there’s times where he’s  _ not _ , right? So all in all he considers it a win.

By now he thinks that Lucian has had enough time to adjust to him, which is good. The heat and the ache in him makes  _ him _ want to start squirming. The room around them is also hot. The window is closed, as is the door. Beads of sweat are starting to gather at his temples. The back of his neck. The crook of his knees where his clothes have been shoved. Lucian looks to be in the same boat as he is, with the way the skin of his legs has started to shine in the candle light. Shirt rucked up slightly to show off the small of his back, the fabric clinging to his skin. And below them the sheets have started to get damp from their sweat.

He should've thought to open a window, but. The thought makes him just as antsy and uneasy as the prospect of going outside does. They’ll just have to bear it the way it is.

He has always thought that heat only adds to the pleasure of sex.

Jonas starts to pull out, the pace almost agonizingly slow before he fucks right back in in one go. He’s pretty sure Lucian curses again, but it sounds to be in a different language that he can’t bother to recognize right now. He goes down  _ deep _ , though. He enjoys this position a hell of a lot more; it’s easier to keep up without getting tired. It’s also a better angle.

Lucian’s hands are fisting at the sheets, curling his fingers in and tugging like he could take a corner of the fitted sheet right off. His cock is starting to  _ drip _ while he fucks him. It’s wet and messy and sticky and he fucking loves it. There’s something feral in the two of them fucking rough and moaning like this.

Jonas sets out a good pace. He keeps snapping his hips forward to fuck him hard and deep, and Lucian is decidedly not protesting to this. It all sounds so incredibly lewd in the space around them. They’re both moaning and panting, and with every thrust it makes an audible slap of skin on skin. He really hopes that no one could hear them. He’s also really relieved that Blue Jonas elected to sleep in Amiya’s room tonight. That would make for one awkward carriage ride in the morning.

He still has a firm hand planted on his back, another thing that Lucian doesn’t seem opposed to in the slightest. He has to just lie there and take it. Pushed and adjusted just the way that Jonas wants him to be. Pressed into the bed and whining like a bitch.

He grips at Lucian’s cock once more with his free hand, palm sliding over the head so he can gather up that mess and slick it down his cock. It makes jerking him off so much easier. He tries to keep the same pace with his thrusts, the momentum aiding with that. Lucian seems torn between rocking forward into his hand and fucking back on to his cock. It’s a marvel to look down and see him writhing like that.

To mix things up he shifts again and moves so he’s laying across his back fully this time. The movement instantly had Lucian cursing again and shuddering around his cock. That in turn makes Jonas gasp roughly and rut down into him, rhythm going sloppy for a moment.

The mattress below them is creaking, just adding to the cacophony of noises in this room. It’s a miracle that the headboard isn’t cracking into the wall and giving them away. Jonas leans down to bite marks into his shoulder, something akin to a growl leaving his mouth. He tries to adjust the angle of his thrusts until Lucian jerks and cries out under him, and he knows that he’s fucking right up against his prostate. Continues to keep up that exact angle every single time.

“Fuck.” Lucian breathes out. He tilts his head to rest his forehead against the sheets. Another particularly rough thrust and his knees inch and slide apart. The bed’s damp enough to move things, all sticking and and slick, and then added weight on top of him probably isn’t helping much either.

He can start to feel it building up inside, the intoxicating drag of his cock and the scolding heat all around him closer and closer. He curses, wet and puffing hot against Lucian's neck.

It sounds like Lucian is getting close too, with the way that he's trembling apart under him. He sounds more strained when he speaks and lets out profanities. He keeps moving back against him like he's desperate for it.

The blood is pounding in his ears, breathing ragged and stuttering. He's given up on all pretenses of a rhythm at this point and just keeps rutting down into him rough.

" _ Shit. _ "

He slides out of Lucian completely and barely has to fist and his cock and pump it a few times before he's spilling onto the sheets below. He comes  _ hard _ , head pounding, the breath choking out of him as he rides out his orgasm. It’s an intense feeling that almost makes him dizzy, and his mouth has gone completely dry. Lucian makes a whining, frustrated noise, and Jonas wastes no time in reaching down between his legs to jerk him off proper. No more teasing touches or prolonging it out. He strokes him good and fast.

In the end it doesn’t take long for Lucian to seize up. He lets out a fucking  _ lewd _ moan and then he’s coming, strips painting Jonas’ other clean hand.

The room goes quiet. Or, at least more quiet than it was previously. The only sound now is the muffled nightlife of Waterdeep outside the inn, and the two of them heaving harsh breaths. The sheets are a sweaty soiled mess. As are the two of them, really. If he had some kind of water-type spell prepared with him he could’ve wetted down a cloth with some nice refreshing cold water to clean the two of them up.

It probably wasn’t the best idea to have rough messy sex fresh out of a bath, but Jonas is book smart, okay, not life smart.

Lucian squirms a bit, and Jonas takes the hit to get up off his back. And then he’s rolling over to the side, freakish long legs tangled in his own pants as he tires to avoid laying in the mess they’ve made.

“Ugh. I hope that magic of yours can deal with this.” He sticks out his tongue to emphasize his disgust. Jonas snorts. He has an inkling suspicion that no matter what he does Lucian’s pores will be seeping alcohol and debauchery come tomorrow morning.

He does manage to get them in at least a presentable looking fashion. If they fix some of their clothes in the morning you would hardly be able to tell at all. Except maybe that Lucian has some potential hickies on his neck and shoulders. And speaking of, his pants are still tangled around his legs and he looks all and all too lazy to do anything about it, and would rather just collapse against the bed. Jonas pulls up his own and then takes a moment to spread out on the bed next to him.

He’s got something of a headache starting to pound at his skull. If he had to take an educated guess, he thinks it’s due to all the exertive activity they just did, as well as the alcohol that might still be thrumming through his bloodstream.

Laying out across the bed when it’s all said and done, it starts to sink in just how tired he is. It feels like it’s been the world’s longest day, and that there are so many things that happen that he doesn’t get to even try to process until he’s in bed all alone. He’s not right now, though. At least not for the moment.

Eventually Lucian stands up off the bed so he can get fully dressed again. Jonas tilts his head to the side to watch. It looks like he almost pauses for a second, glances to the map and stone that Jonas had dropped on to the dresser, and then he’s grabbing up one of the bottles they had been passing back and forth.

“Big day tomorrow.” He says. It sounds like his usual dry and sarcastic tone, the typical way he seems to speak, and Jonas can’t tell if there’s anything more to it than that or not. He hesitates. Nods.

“Yeah… I have a feeling it’s going to be,” he pauses and exhales tiredly, “pretty something.” 

Is this the part where he’s hinting at him to get the fuck out of his room? Jonas isn’t exactly new to the whole one night stand scenario, so one would think he’d know. But nothing about this, about them, is normal by any means of the word. From the way that they had met and where, and everything that’s happened after.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or just how the day had gone, but he feels scraped raw. And oddly enough, he finds that he...doesn’t really want to leave? It’d be him going right back to his own empty, vacant room he was trying to avoid in the first place

Lucian takes a swig of his drink, and then meanders his way over to the candles that’s lit in the room.

“It’s pretty late. We probably shouldn’t make a raucous by trying to get you back to your room.” His breezy, and forced flippant reasoning doesn’t really hold up because their rooms are literally right next to each other and not, say, across the inn. In fact it wouldn’t be hard at all to sneak exactly the way he had on the way over. But if that’s the closest excuse he could come up with to get him to stay then, well. Jonas’ll take it. He honestly feels relieved to hear that his not about to overstay his welcome. He nods again.

He doesn’t want more, than just what this is. He doesn’t and he’s never picked up anything on Lucian’s side to combat that idea either.

They argue, tease the shit out of each other. Hells, there are times when Jonas has wanted to straight up deck the grin right off his face, and he’s sure that that urge will crop up again sometime in the future. He’s sure that Lucian has felt the same in that regard.

Lucian blows out the candles and only the moonlight from the window remains Navigates back to the bed and all but tosses himself onto it like a sack of potatoes, all without spilling a drop.

They’re both just kind’ve fucked up. They both come from similar enough backgrounds and both have dealt with some awful shit in their lives, and now some of that is interacting with each other. And Lucian doesn’t like to go into detail about that stuff, but Jonas feels confident in going out on a limb and saying that his shit is objectively worse than Jonas’. Just from the bits and pieces he’s picked up from others or from the noble himself. Jonas is not ignorant to the silver spoon in his mouth nor the loving parents who put it there.

So they’re a little different and a little the same. He thinks that they’re both just lonely people who have gravitated towards each other for better or for worse. And that’s okay.

Lucian settles down on the mattress but doesn’t look like he’ll be hunkering down to sleep for a while. He sits up with his back against the headboard just like earlier and crosses his ankles. He offers the bottle over to Jonas, and Jonas declines, but he appreciates the gesture none-the-less. He doesn’t think that Lucian is a terrible awful bad person, and he’s glad that he looks to be sticking around, at least for a little while longer.

He twists and moves to get himself in a more comfortable position to lay in, a hand propping his head up.

“So,” he starts, and then with all the seriousness that he can muster, “big spoon or little spoon?”

Lucian scoffs and shoves him surprisingly hard enough he almost goes ass over teakettle right off the bed.

“Fair enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how endings do, so, eh? -chucks fic like a Molotov and runs-


End file.
